Not that I was aware of terms like ‘anxiety’ or ‘panic attack’ when I was a child, but I do recall the feeling of ‘overwhelm’ from an early age. Terms like, Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) are often used now to describe people thought to have an increased or deeper central nervous system sensitivity to physical, emotional, or social stimuli. I guess if this applies to me, it explains how I experience empathy and feel visceral distress when others suffer. It has probably been more than a guiding influence on my career path, and the motivation behind seeking to eradicate the causes of unnecessary suffering. I simply can’t recall a time when I didn’t feel like this.

I can pinpoint my first concrete memory to a moment in the backyard of our first home in George Town. I was less than 5 years old. I can still picture the exact location; standing at the rear of house near the little access door under the brick house. I am standing alone looking at my brother’s plastic trike and my trike. I don’t recall exactly what I did to my brother, maybe I crashed into him, or I commandeered his vehicle with force, but I know I did something intentionally and it hurt someone else. I can still reconnect with that moment, the first time I felt ‘guilt’ and ‘remorse’.

In infant school, around seven years of age, I specifically recall being dropped at school, walking into class, and feeling what I reflect on now as ‘separation anxiety’ from my mother. I don’t believe the school day had officially started when the feelings kept growing and became so overwhelming I dropped what ever I was doing and ran. I ran to the door. I ran down the corridor. I ran into the school yard, out the school gate, across the road, down the street, across the main road, through the park, and down our street to my house.  I can reconnect with the feeling of “I’m not okay here, and I must leave”. Immediately. The overwhelm led to a plan that I executed post haste. I wanted to see my Mum. I wanted the security she provided. I wanted the overwhelm to go away and my mum was the solution.

Much to the surprise of my mother, I arrived home not long after she had driven home. She was shocked, concerned that I had crossed busy roads by myself, but gentle, comforting and calming. I regained my composure and, to the best of my memory, returned to school not long after. I don’t believe I repeated the excursion again, however the sensitivity, the feelings, the overwhelm have never been far away. I have simply used different coping mechanisms over the course of my life to find comfort and peace.